Pat Riot, former “cat herder”, had been watching all of the goings on for the past couple of days and was baffled. Bottles offered him water with the steak that he ordered and he shunned it thinking this might be cause of this town’s afflictions.

The Saloon was getting empty this time of night, as most of the cowboys had headed upstairs to associate with the ladies. Madame Lorelei moseyed over to where Mr. Riot was sitting eating his dinner, thinking to strike up a conversation.

As I headed out to necessary a cowboy dressed only in his long handles ran by almost knocking me over. I yelled after his departing figure, ‘Hey yuh big galoot, watch where yer ago’n!!’ ‘Yuh nearly ruint mah good boots!!’

Deborgille's skeptical look did not dissuade the gentlemanly Jerez from extending the ribbon, nor from asking in a gentle voice, "And if I may, dear Lady, might I have the pleasure of your company for the entire night?"

Returning to the saloon, I wandered over to Pat’s table. ‘Howdy Pat.” “Miss Lorelei, don’t mean to interrupt but I just had my good boots near ruint out back by some jasper runn’n down the alley in his long handles.” “Was I you I’d check on my girls tuh be sure they’s awright.”

Pat smiled at Miss Lorelei and excused himself. For no apparent reason that anyone could see he walked over to Brett Black, picked up a spittoon and emptied the contents over his head, disarmed him and then threw him out into the street through the batwing doors.

It appeared that Pat's isolation to the town of Tarrant left him unaware of the reputation that Maddog had obtained.

He has been heard to say, "I'm not the type to stab somebody in the back, but I'd walk right up to them, shove it in the center of their chest and laugh in their face as I twisted the knife. If I like you, and you made me mad, I would likely rip your heart out and shove it down your throat while you choke to death on it. You don't want to know what I would do if I didn't like you." *

After watching all the shenanigans going on in the saloon, Smoken D steps out from a dark corner and Maddog hears the distinct sound of a gun being cocked and a cold barrel placed upon his neck. Smoken says, "Bottles gonna have a lot of blood ta clean up ifen you push that blade any further, I don't miss at this range".

While organizing the posse, I said to the Sheriff, ‘John, that Pat Riot really busted things wide open.’ ‘They say “He’s been in the desert so long, he knows all the lizards by their first names.”’ ‘I reckon if we get Brett Black and that Maddog fellow the rest of the gang will drift.’

Ranger Cool, who had passed Ranger Ed and Ol Pete several days ago on their way to Tarrant, was returning from his visit to Fort Belknap and his meeting with Brigadier William G. Belknap. Traveling back through Comanche Country was always dangerous, and required a keen, watchful eye for oncoming danger.

Smoken D spins his 45 twice and snaps it back in the holster. That's more like it fellows, think I'll have me a sapper Bottles. Both Pat and Maddog took notice of that gun handling as they grab their drinks.

Rye was finishing up his smoke and wondering how he could get to be a ranger. He was mainly a cowboy going from ranch to ranch and needed something steady for a change. Rangering seemed to appeal to him!

Deborgille stared at the portrait propped up against her fancy cathouse mirror, then at her reflection in the fancy cathouse mirror, stared open mouthed at two images of herself that looked back at her.

Sheriff York gathered volunteers for the posse to go after Bret Black and his gang. He said “We need Old Pete to track this bunch, he knows the desert trails like the back of his hand.” “How about it Pete you ready to ride?” “Jest es soon es I get ‘Ol Ghost’ saddled” said Pete.